at last taken by the Japanese forces, the proud Russians must have
realized that they had no despicable foe in us. But because they
had behind them the main line of defense surrounding the formidable
fortress, they did not lose their courage with two or three defeats. So
now they fell back upon the Kanta-shan Heights to construct new works
of defense and try a third stand there. Because they were hurrying
with this defensive construction, we too had to hurry with our attack.
One day’s delay on our part would give them a day’s advantage over us.
So without waiting to rest our tired backs and limbs after the long
assault, we began a sustained pursuit with the force of a tidal wave,
with a view to driving them to the main fortress while their defenses
were as yet inadequate.
The 29th was spent in supplying the deficiency of ammunition, in the
rearrangement of companies and ranks, and in a reconnaissance of the
enemy’s cavalry. The following day, the 30th, was assigned for the
simultaneous march of all our forces.
Our regiment put up a temporary bivouac in the valley near Hanchia-tun
on the 29th. About three o’clock in the morning the brigade
headquarters ordered our colonel to send for instructions at once. I
was detailed for this duty and, accompanied by an orderly, ran one and
one half _ri_ along the river bank, and reached headquarters a little
before four o’clock. Unless we ran still faster back to our camp,
our regiment could not join the fight in time. So I took off all my
clothing and handed it over to the orderly, and ran for one and one
half _ri_ perfectly naked, with a pistol in one hand and my sword in
the other. It was still dark and I had to be very careful not to go
in the wrong direction. I ran and ran, almost breathless, along the
river bank. On my way back I happened to hear the voice of Paymaster
Mishima, who was directing the conveyance of provisions. Still running,
I shouted to him: “Paymaster Mishima! Provisions are of no use. We
march again at once.” When I had finished the sentence Mishima’s voice
was heard far behind me. Fortunately I did not lose myself nor make
any mistake and reached our bivouac at ten minutes before five. The
assembly was sounded at once and the order to attack was given. The
orderly to whom I intrusted my clothing had not yet returned. In the
early morning of a summer day it was nice and cool without anything
on, but I could not well march in that state. My last duty was done
satisfactorily without uniform, but the next one seemed to require it.
Another orderly was dispatched in search of the first one, but still
the latter was not forthcoming. The time had come for us to start. I
was in a very awkward plight, when at the last moment my uniform bearer
came, and I was saved the distinction of a naked fight. It is a mere
joke now, but I was exceedingly anxious then.
In this way the most delightful attack and advance was begun just as
had been previously planned. We saw that it was to be a regular open
field battle. That is to say, the skirmishers forming the first line
advanced steadily, followed by the reserve body; all was arranged like
a field manœuvre in time of peace. Such a movement is almost impossible
in an attack on a fortress, which requires a gradual increase of
reserves according to the circumstances of every hour and the condition
of the ground at each point. Hitherto we had been attacking only rocky,
hilly places, so that the only thing we could do was to be as near the
enemy as possible, in order to seize the right opportunity to fall
upon his forces with one accord. In this mode of attack we could not
of course keep to the regular formation of a drill book. However, when
once our army went past Taipo-shan, from there as far as the towering
Taku-shan the ground was an extensive rolling country; hence the
possibility of our first open field battle. Our delight was immense.
Moreover, we took full advantage of the lack of preparation of our
opponent and made a sudden attack. Although the Russians offered some
obstinate resistance, they were obliged to retire step by step. Our
regiment held only two companies in reserve; all the rest were on the
line of fire, and gradually surrounded the enemy, engaging them on both
wings, with the result that when their centre was defeated they were
cut in two and forced to retreat.
Before reaching our final position, I was running over a millet field
carrying the regimental colors, when I came across Major Achino. His
sharp eyes were sparkling like a hawk’s, and he was standing on a rock
leaning on his sword. He and I had been together at the headquarters of
our regiment at home, and I was one of those who was most influenced by
his character. His clear views on tactics, his spirit of indomitable
courage, his frank but dignified demeanor, compelled my admiration.
This was the man who wrote that letter of farewell to our colonel in
the midst of our attack on Taipo-shan, who rushed up the northeast
corner of the hill with two companies of his choicest men under him,
and thus opened the way for the other divisions to attack the enemy.
I had not seen this gallant warrior since that time, and when I met
him in the millet field, I felt as if I actually saw him fighting in
that brave manner and could not repress my feeling of admiration and
respect. I called out, “Major Achino!” and he gave me a glance and a
word of encouragement, saying, “Add to the glory of your colors.” I
involuntarily bowed my head in recognition and gratitude, but we had
no time for further conversation. We soon lost sight of each other, I
marching forward and thinking fondly of him.
At this moment the enemy were gradually falling back before us;
eventually they forsook their last line of resistance near Lung-tu and
retreated toward Taku-shan. Now was the time for a prolonged pursuit.
It is a delightful business to pursue a flying enemy, when they are
shot from behind and fall like leaves in the autumnal wind. Such an
opportunity generally comes after a fierce hard struggle, but on this
particular occasion we had only about thirty casualties during the day.
Such a pleasant chase after such an easy battle was something we might
never expect to have again.
At noon of this day our army was in complete possession of the
position we had had in view, and our line extended from the heights of
T’uchêng-tsu in the north to the eastern heights of Taku-shan in the
south. Standing on this newly acquired line with field-glass in hand,
what a prospect greeted our eyes!
Here for the first time we could see the main defense line of the
impregnable fortress of Port Arthur. Beginning with Kikuan-shan in the
south, as far north as the eye could reach forts and trenches were
visible all over the country. From among them some horrible-looking
things were thrusting up their heads like tigers and leopards ready
to spring; these were the heavy guns. Here, there, and everywhere,
eight- to tenfold wires were clustered together, dimly visible through
the mist; these were wire-entanglements. The enemy’s sentinels, or
“far-looking scouts,” could also be seen at different points. Men in
groups of twenty or thirty were setting up wire-entanglements. This
was the stage where we were to decide the points at issue, the stage
on which the eyes of the world were fixed and which we actors could
not forget even in sleep. Those who died prematurely, crying, “Port
Arthur” or “Revenge,” how boundless their joy would have been if they
had survived to see this heart-stirring prospect! From this day on we
were stationed in the vicinity of Lung-tu and began to construct strong
works along the heights of Kanta-shan, with a view to first storming
and taking Taku-shan and Hsiaoku-shan in front of the enemy’s right
wing, and then with these two hills as our base of attack to beginning
an assault on their main line of defense.
I must say here with great respect that the Field-Marshal
Commander-in-chief sent us the following Imperial message with regard
to the battle of the 26th-30th of July, which even his humblest
servant, like myself, had the honor of perusing: “The investing
army having repeatedly braved the natural advantages of the advance
positions of the fortress of Port Arthur, and having fought an arduous
fight for several days, and having at last driven the enemy within
their main line of defense, we are deeply gratified with your valor.”
The commander sent His Majesty the following reply: “Your Majesty has
graciously given us a special message in regard to our victory in the
battle preparatory to the attack on the fortress of Port Arthur, and
we are deeply affected. We Your Majesty’s servants expect to exert
ourselves still more zealously and accomplish the object of our army
without failure. Respectfully submitted.”
H. I. M. the Empress also sent us the following message: “Her Majesty
the Empress has heard that the investing army has braved the dangers
of Port Arthur Fortress and that an arduous attack has been successful
after some days’ continuance, and Her Majesty is deeply struck with the
loyalty and valor of the officers and men of the army.”
Our commander made reply also to this gracious message.
Since we, then, humble subjects without any special merit were thus
recognized and encouraged by Their Majesties, how could we set at
ease Their Majesties’ revered hearts? It is hard to return even one
thousandth part of their favor; a hot fight of a few days is nothing
for us. These Imperial messages simply put us to shame and caused us
to fear lest we might fail to deserve Their Majesties’ boundless love
and indulgence. The spirits of those loyal and brave ones who died in
battle must have shed tears of gratitude on hearing these gracious
messages.
After the Imperial messages came all were stirred, and the morale of
the whole army became still more satisfactory. Steep hills and strong
forts before us, and the gallant enemy defending them, must all yield
to faithful subjects who are so anxious to set at ease Their Majesties’
troubled hearts!
[Illustration: Japanese kanji Ch. XXI.]
THE STORMING OF TAKU-SHAN
UPON the seacoast east of the great fortress there is a rugged mountain
towering high with almost perpendicular sides, its beetling rocks and
crags spotted here and there with dwarf trees. The whole looks, from
a distance, like an old tiger squatting on a hill. This is Taku-shan,
or the Great Orphan. Hsiaoku-shan, or the Little Orphan, lies to the
south, and on the opposite side, at the foot of Laolütszu. Taku-shan is
a solitary peak 188 metres in height; its southwestern side looks down
into the fortress of Port Arthur, and its northwestern side overlooked
the inside of the line of investment formed by our left and central
columns. Our works of investment, the movements of every division, and
the position of our artillery were plainly visible from there. The
side facing our army was particularly steep and precipitous, almost
impossible to climb. It was as bad as Kenzan and Taipo-shan. While
these two hills allowed the enemy to look into our position, they could
not help becoming the mark and target for our fire. The commanding
general of our division made the following remark about them:—
“The Great and Little Orphans may be likened to the meat between the
ribs of a chicken, which is hard to get and yet we are reluctant to
throw it away.[50] As long as these hills are left in the enemy’s
hands, we are sure to be overlooked and shot from them, even though
after we have taken them ourselves we cannot help becoming a target for
the enemy.”
Such a naturally protected position is extremely hard to take, and
harder to keep, even when we have succeeded in taking it after untold
struggles, because it will be fired at by all the neighboring forts as
a convenient object. Therefore, in spite of the unanimous conclusion of
the staff that the place must be taken from geographic and strategic
necessity, we waited for the proper opportunity without firing a
shot, though the enemy fired at us incessantly; and we hurried on our
preparations for the close investment.
The 7th of August was finally fixed for our march and attack. Our
field-artillery and siege-artillery, with shrapnels and mortars, had
already taken their position in great secrecy. At 4 P. M. all the guns
simultaneously opened fire, and directed it to the sky-line of both
Orphans.
The boom and roar rent the air and white smoke shut out the sky,
and not only the forts on both Orphans, but also those on Panlung,
Kikuan-shan, and Laolütszu in the rear responded to our fire at once.
As far as the eye could reach the whole country was covered with
smoke, and the tremendous noise of a hundred thunders at the same time
went ceaselessly through the gloomy sky, which threatened rain at any
moment. Whenever one of our shells struck a rock on Taku-shan, light
yellowish-white sparks and fragments of rock flew far and wide—truly
it was one of the sublimest sights of war. The enemy’s artillery was
superior in strength and they had the great advantage of overlooking
us, hence our artillery labored under great difficulty and disadvantage
and suffered damage of great magnitude. But the enemy’s artillery
seemed ignorant of the fact that our shrapnel guns and mortars were
posted in the valley; they merely concentrated their fire on the
artillery belonging to the columns, and on our infantry. Thus our
big guns remained entirely free from damage, and toward sunset their
effect on the enemy became more apparent, so that the Russian guns on
Taku-shan seemed more or less silenced. At 4 P. M. our regiment left
its place of bivouac and began to march, with a view to crossing the
river Taiko and attacking the enemy as soon as our guns should open a
proper opportunity for such an assault.
Before proceeding to describe this fierce struggle, let me tell
you what I had thought and done just before it. This experience was
not mine only, but rather common to all fighters before a decisive
battle. You will understand by this story one of the weaknesses of
soldiers. During the three months since I had first stepped on the
soil of Liaotung, I, humble and insignificant as I was, had borne the
grave responsibility of carrying the regimental colors representing
the person of His Majesty himself, and had already gone through
three battles—on Kenzan, Taipo-shan, and Kanta-shan. Fortunately or
unfortunately, I had not had a scratch as yet, while a large number
of brave men had fallen under the standard, and the standard itself
had been torn by the enemy’s shell. When the regimental flag was
damaged, a soldier quite close by me was killed and yet I remained
unhurt. However, the rumors of my death had repeatedly reached home by
this time, and a false story of my being wounded had appeared in the
newspapers. I had heard of all this while at the front. One of these
rumors said that at the time of our landing the storm was so violent
that my sampan was upset and I was swallowed by big waves, and that,
though I swam for several _cho_[51] with the regimental flag in my
mouth, I was at last buried in the sea by the angry billows. Another
rumor reported that I had encountered the enemy soon after landing and
was killed, together with the captain of our First Company. All these
mistaken reports had already made me a hero, and later I was frequently
reported to have been wounded, with wonderful details accompanying
each story. But when I examined myself I felt that I had no merit,
neither the slightest wound upon my body. I could not help being
ashamed of myself, and thought I was unworthy the great expectations
of my friends. This idea made me miserable. So therefore I made up
my mind to fight desperately and sacrifice my life at this battle of
Taku-shan. A few days before the attack began, I told my servant that
I was fully determined to die this time; that I did not know how to
thank him for all his great goodness to me, and asked him to consider
the assurance of my death as my only memento of my gratitude to him—I
also asked him to fight valiantly. My servant, his eyes dim with tears,
said that if his lieutenant died he would die with him. I told him
that I would prepare a box for my ashes, but that, if I should be so
beautifully killed as to leave no bones, he was to send home some of my
hair. Then I went on to make a box of fragments of planks that had been
used for packing big shells; they were fastened together with bamboo
nails made by my servant. A clumsy box of about three inches square was
thus prepared, in which I placed a lock of my hair, as well as sheets
of paper for wrapping up my ashes; on the lid of the box I wrote my
name and my posthumous Buddhistic name as well. My coffin being thus
ready, the only thing remaining for me to do was to exert myself to the
very last, to repay the favor of the Emperor and of the country with
my own life. But, after all, this box has not borne the distinction of
carrying my remains. Alas! it is now a mere laughing-stock for myself
and my friends.
That evening I wrote a letter to my elder brother in Tokyo and reported
to him the recent events in the struggle, and told him that our attack
was to begin on the morrow; that I was ready and determined to die;
that though my body be lost at Port Arthur, my spirit would not forget
loyalty to the Emperor for seven lives. Of course this was meant as
my eternal farewell. On the same day I received a letter from that
brother, in which I found the following passages of admonition:—
“Think not of honor or of merit—only be faithful to thy duty.”
“When Nelson died a glorious death in the sea-fight of Trafalgar, he
said, ‘Thank God, I have done my duty.’”
On the eve of this great battle I received these words of encouragement
and instruction, which made my heart still braver and my determination
still firmer.
At 5 P. M. on the 7th of August, a great downpour of rain mingled with
the thunder of cannon, and the afternoon sky became utterly dark,
dismal, and dreary. We were halted on an eminence over the river
Taiko, waiting anxiously for the command “Forward!” The rain became
heavier and the sky darker. The Russian search-light, falling on one
side of the hills and valleys, occasionally threw a whitish-blue light
over the scene and impeded the march of our infantry. The plunging fire
of the enemy became more and more violent as time went on. It made a
strange noise, mingled with the tremendous downpour of rain. Lieutenant
Hayashi and myself under one overcoat would exchange words now and then.
“We may separate at any moment,” was Hayashi’s abrupt remark, as if he
were thinking of his death.
“I also am determined to die to-night,” was my response. Whereupon
Hayashi said:—
“What a long time we have been together!”
We had no more chance to continue this conversation, but had to
separate. We had been comrades through the campaign, and while at home
had been messmates for a long time. It was this Lieutenant Hayashi
who, at the last rush upon Taipo-shan, achieved the first entry within
the enemy’s ramparts brandishing his sword. This hurried farewell was
indeed our last—our hand-shaking an eternal good-by.
As was said before, our artillery fire began to take effect toward
evening. Whereupon our detachment began to advance as had been
previously planned. The rain fell more and more heavily, and the narrow
paths became mud-holes. We marched with great difficulty knee-deep in
water and mud. The enemy’s battery on Taku-shan was not silenced or
weakened as we had supposed. As soon as they discovered us marching
through the rain and smoke, they resumed their firing with fresh vigor.
When we reached the river, the muddy water was overrunning its banks,
and we did not know how deep it was. The enemy, taking advantage of
the heavy rain, had dammed the stream below, and was trying to impede
our march by this inundation. However brave we might be, we could not
help hesitating before this unexpected ally of the Russians. Should we
brave the water, we might merely drown, instead of dying by the enemy’s
projectiles. But behold! a forlorn hope of our engineers jumped into
the dark flood and broke the dam; very soon the water subsided and the
infantry could cross the river. Our whole force jumped into the water
and waded. Instead of being drowned, many were killed in the stream
by the enemy’s fire; their dead bodies were strewn so thick that they
formed almost a bridge across the river.
At last we reached the foot of Taku-shan, but we had then to break the
wire-entanglements and run the risk of stepping on mines. One danger
over, others were awaiting us! This was not, however, the time or
place to hesitate; we began to clamber over rocks and scale precipices.
Pitch darkness and violent rain increased our difficulties. The pouring
rain and the crossing of the river had wet us through and through, yet
we could not exercise our muscles freely to promote the circulation of
blood. Moreover, as we came nearer and nearer the Russian trenches,
they poured shrapnel bullets upon our heads, or hurled stones and beams
upon us, so that the difficulty of pushing forward was very great. A
neighboring detachment had already approached the skirmish-trenches
which formed a horseshoe half-way up on the side of the mountain.
Meanwhile our detachment was busy making firm footholds in the rocks
on the mountain-side, preparing for an early opportunity of trying a
night assault. But the enemy with search-light and star-shells worked
so hard to impede progress, that the night surprise was given up as an
impossibility. Accordingly we planned an attack at early dawn instead;
we had now to wait, facing each other and the enemy, exposed to the
rain, which continued to fall without intermission.
When the eastern sky began to lighten, the rain was still falling.
The bodies of our comrades scattered along the river Taiko could
not be picked up, nor could an orderly reach the other side of the
stream, because we were right under the enemy’s eyes. In spite of
this, orderlies were dispatched, but were shot down without a single
exception. Such a horrible scene! Such a disappointing result! No one
had any plan to propose, and we did not know when and how the object
of storming the enemy could be accomplished. Sergeant-Major Iino, who
was shot through the abdomen and lying flat in agony at the foot of
Taku-shan, was at this moment begging every orderly that passed by to
kill him and relieve his suffering. How could we defeat the enemy and
care for the dead and wounded? Our minds ran right and left, but still
no desirable opportunity offered itself. On the top of all this, eleven
ships of the Russian fleet, including the Novic, made their appearance
near Yenchang and began bombarding our infantry marching toward the
Taku and Hsiaoku-shan from the rear. There was nothing to shield us;
we became a certain target for the enemy’s fire, and were killed and
wounded at their will. We were thus reduced to a state of uttermost
desperation, as if a wolf had attacked us at the back gate while we
were defending the front gate against a tiger. But, after all, how did
we capture this Taiku-shan?
[Illustration: Japanese kanji Ch. XXII.]
SUN FLAG ON TAKU-SHAN
THE powder-smoke covering the whole scene was like surging waves, and
the dark shower of rain may be likened to angry lions. Above us the
steep mountain stood high, kissing the heavens—even monkeys could
hardly climb it. Each step upward presented a still steeper place—one
precipice climbed brought us to another still harder. And the fierce
Russian eagle threatened us from the top of this formidable height.
All our fire from every direction was being concentrated upon the
enemy’s position on Taku-shan. To respond to this attack, the Russian
big guns were putting out red tongues at us in front, and from behind
their warships were coming to shatter our backs. The enemy, with this
natural advantage and with this strong defensive array, was not easy to
defeat. But if we failed to take this place, not only would our whole
army be checked here and be unable to assault the great fortress, but
also we should be without any base for investing Port Arthur. Hence the
urgent necessity of storming the enemy irrespective of any amount of
sacrifice and difficulty.
Our regiment spent that night and morning on the hillside, exposed to
heavy rain and strong fire. But at about 3 P. M. the right opportunity
for us to attack the enemy offered itself. Our siege-gunners had so
successfully bombarded the enemy’s ships that they were obliged to
retreat for a while, and gave us more freedom of action. When this
opportunity came, the brigadier-general gave us the following order:
“The left wing is now to storm Taku-shan, and your regiment, in
connection with the left wing, is to attack the northern slope.”